From the Rage Online newsdesk Friday, September 1st, 1995  

The small but gifted winger
recalls, as he rounds his fourth defender
and leaves him prostrate behind,
with the empty goal at his mercy
that he is allergic to the potent mix
of sweat and Old Spice
and, having shaved that morning,
he fluffs his shot entirely.

This entry was posted on Friday, September 1st, 1995 at 12:00 am and appears under Crap Poetry. Both comments and pings are currently closed.

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another fine mash from ox9encoding